


Where Does Sorrow Hide?

by theFateofYou



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A meeting of minds, A new name, Abelas is a secret sweetheart, Angst, Eluvians, Elvhen, Elvhen Lore, F/M, Heartbreak, Magic, Melancholy, Mirrors, Post-Game(s), Solas Disapproves, Solas breakup, Sorrow, Spoilers, Swimming, Well of Sorrows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theFateofYou/pseuds/theFateofYou
Summary: After Corphyeus' defeat, Solas' vanishing act, and an end to the Inquisition's War, Mathelina takes a moment to contemplate the year and choices  she had to make. Without meaning to, she finds her way back to the Well of Sorrows and is met by a familiar face to speak with her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Abelas so much, and I wish we could have seen more of him.

At first she thought it was Solas. He walked with the same, patient canter; no where to be, and yet a purpose found in each step. Tall too, with the wide shoulders only made wider by the gleaming, metal pauldrons; bearing all the knowledge of her people and more. A hidden burden that both refused to share with her and her people. Mathelina was halfway through saying his name before she turned and saw his face. The pale skin marked with paler green lines, a vast contrast to the dark reddish-brown tattoos across her face. She had always favoured the bow, the strong, heavy weight in her palm and Andruil's blessing on her cheek; her aim always true. It took little imagination at to why Abelas had marked himself with Mythal. Looking at the antler-like pattern on his cheek and brow, all she could remember was Solas' cruel but kindly meant words _They are slave markings_. Slave markings, it was an impossible idea. Of all people, Abelas would know and he still wore Mythal's mark on his cheek with pride. _I don't wear them for the old gods, I wear them for me_. She had refused to remove them, of all the things to say to her; that was the second cruelest of the things he did. As much as her heart yearned for his love and approval, she would not have her Dalish pride stripped away by a past she could barely remember. How he haunted her thoughts even now, stealing her away from the ancient Elvhen who watched her now. Abelas spoke first, moving towards her and the rain-filled well; the gravel crunching under his feet. His voice rumbled in the Elvhen tongue, pure and perfect; like a song. "So you return to the vir'abelasan, even though nothing remains to call you."

Mathelina could not explain how, but she understood what he said. The whispers of the ancient past teaching her the meaning of each syllable, and how to respond. It made her smile, shifting her gaze away from him and back to the well. The golden tiles was slowly turning green for rainwater had fallen through the roof and collected in the waist-deep basin. The sky above the broken temple was still grey, threatening to storm again and deepen the water's depth. Like the Elvhen, this place too had become a forgotten ruin. Of broken columns, ancient languages, and forgotten rituals. Only the rain remembering this place, the rain and them. Mathelina slowly gazed up, watching his reflection in the broken glass of the eluvians that followed the curved rim of the pool; his face on fractured glass, no matter which mirror she gazed to. Even from this distance, she could see her own eyes; the rust colouring slowly turning green with each passing day. Glowing like her hand, wide and watching as Abelas walked to her; hovering over her right shoulder, meeting her glowing gaze in the mirrors. Without plan or meaning to, the Inquisitor responded in the same ancient tongue; now proficient in what was once a handful of words. "Its so different now, the magic that it held...gone. It is simply a well now. A well that does not hold sorrow or knowledge, merely the sky's tears."

She had come here by accident. On Cullen's suggestion, a group of them had been moving through the arbor wilds to collect the dead for the families; with the war ended, many had become anxious for work and this was the best Cullen had at the moment. They had spent about a week travelling into the woods, placing the dead in carts. Mother Giselle blessed the humans in the name of the Maker, and Mathelina gave her blessing to the fallen elves. They had been so willing to join her fight, to see one of their own leading the people to victory against an ancient evil. Inspired to rise above the alienage life they were told they belonged to. And now they were dead, because they had believed in her. They whispered her name as she slept, louder than the well's voice; the Inquisitor quickly grew sleepless during the travel. Prefering to walk for long hours, contemplating the passed year. 

In the middle of the night, on another long walk, the whispers had guided her back to the well. Telling her stories in soft breathes as she moved forward. The magic stone steps no longer rose, and Mathelina had climbed her way up to the well, one ledge at a time til she saw the pool again. Her muscles crying out for sleep, and yet she pushed them til she saw the ruined well. The voices grew quieter after that, allowing Mathelina to remove her boots and let her feet dangle in the rain water. The voices of the dead quieted too, and the young archer thought of her past with less pain. No eyes to judge her choices but the green ones reflected in the mirror. It brought her peace. Abelas did not break it as he spoke, his voice a similar softness as the whispers. "I am glad, that the well's sorrows passed to someone worthy. Would have been a waste in any other course."

To her surprise, Abelas sat down next to her. His boots removed and the bare shins and feet join her in the rainwater. In a methodical, cold manner, Abelas removed the rest of his armour. The pauldrons, breastplate, bracers, all of it; clanging gently against each other as he placed them on dry tile. Mathelina couldn't help but stare. Never having seen Abelas in anything but armour, the common clothes looked odd on his long frame. He was much skinnier without all that armour on, the years in uthenera had not been kind to his health. He didn't radiate heat either, his clothed arm brushed against her and she shuddered for the skin was chilled; a world apart down to the skin it seemed. He was comforting, gentle presence now. The hard air with which he carried himself seemed to be replaced with peace and a near melancholy. Mathelina couldn't help but wonder if this is what he use to be like, before the fall of their empire, before the centuries of sleep. He spoke again, his voice mimicking the gentle air; a rumble of distant thunder. "It seems we both have returned, unable to move forward from the past. Yet, from what I have heard you have defeated an ancient evil."

"Yes, we did. The magistrate is dead, the world is safe, and Solas is gone." she had not meant to let the last part slip, but the elvhen tongue flowed more naturally then other languages she had spoken before and words fell unbidden from her mouth. Mathelina quickly looked at Abelas, half hoping he would have answers to where Solas had gone but he only held a soft smile; the corner of his pale lips curling up as he gazed down at the water, waiting for her to continue. So she did. "In the end we won, but we lost so many on the way. I fear that I have made the wrong choice. All this knowledge at my fingertips, from the elvhen tongue to the ancient strategies with which the Elvhen defended themselves and yet I still bury my people; picking up bodies for carts, day after day. Maybe if I had known more, or had tried harder or... All those who were lost and it was because of my decisions. They say we won, yet I feel nothing but pain for the harm that I caused. I hoped, that maybe if I came back here that...maybe there would be more to learn. A way to atone for my mistakes."

There was a soft splash, and Mathelina looked up to see Abelas had slipped into the well; the rain water barely reaching the tall elf's hips. There was no time for protest, as the man's extraordinary speed grabbed her hands and pulled her in as well. The water freezing her legs, and the caved gently; not prepared for the cold weight and Mathelina began to tip forward. Before she could fall in face first, Abelas caught her and straightened the Inquisitor; the water going up higher on the shorter elf. The well water was like tiny pinpricks against her skin, nothing like the warm embrace of the magic before; no ancient hands pulling her deeper into the well. Her brows raised in surprise as she looked up to him Half from his reckless action (something she would never have expected from such a stern character), and half from the hood that had fallen back. She had never seen him without it, and watched the long, fauxhawke braid of white hair that followed over the crest of his head and gathered in the bunched cloth of his hood. He was, rather handsome. In the way Solas was she noted sadly, strong features and a timeless look in their eyes. The ancient elvhen laughed softly at her face, his grip never relaxing as he pulled her closer to the middle of the pool. "I have often found, no matter the place, that standing in water helps. Connects us back to... _our_ people."

He was full of surprises today. For this was the first time he had said 'our' people. It had been a strict line between him and Mathelina when they had first met. That she was something less, something human, _shem_. It had enraged her, as though all her people's work to reclaim the past was nothing; just a weak scramble, not worthy of notice. To hear him say it now, in this low hour of sorrow was a relief upon her heavy shoulders. The elf wasn't wrong about the water either, although her legs were cold it awakened her skin. Made her body feel alive and she wasn't aware that her smile had returned til she saw her fractured reflection in the mirror. The voices whispered again, a tale of children finding lost treasure at the beginning of a river. She smiled even as her she clutched her arms; shivering softly in the freezing water. "Our people. I like that. For all my life I...I felt so far away from my people. So much is lost, and now I can hear the whispers of the past. Of my people. Everyday I wake, I can remember knew parts of history, magic, stories. The past feels so much closer. I feel at home here, even if its a crumbling ruin."

"I say our people, for you are remembering who we are. Of our history, lore. All the great might of the Elvhen Empire, all that we stood for. You cannot be taught this, but are born with it. You, are the exception. You followed the dancing path of Mythal and I saw a great wisdom in you. I see more of it now, and you have proven it as a vanquisher against Tevinter. You do not act like a beaten cow, belonging to the dirt like so many but a proud elvhen." The words were harsh, but truthful just like Abelas. And they rang in her soul like Mythal's words had. _You do the people proud_ She wondered if Mythal had said the same thing to him, perhaps that is why he was so at peace. It seemed fair to ask, or at least tell him if he did not know. She turned to Abelas, taking a step towards him. "I saw-"

"I know, she spoke to me as well. It was...a welcome sight. A reminder that we are never truly alone." he reached out, and his cold fingers traced one of the lines of the vallaslin. Mathelina couldn't help but shiver at the cold touch, and he withdrew; still wearing a gentle smile, a secret in the corner of his mouth"It suits you. Andruil was an unmatched Huntress. She would be honoured that you chose to follow her, and carried on the Great Hunt that she loves so much." 

"There is so much to learn. Its...Thank you Abelas." Mathelina, took his hand. The palm facing skyward and she watched the a raindrop splash against his palm. More followed, and quickly a storm was upon them; soaked the dry-half of the two. Mathelina looked up, and smiled. He was right, the water felt amazing. The rain was warm with the jungle air and washed the pain out of her skin. Her hand dropped down, fingers interlaced with his as she looked up at the sky. His palm feeling ever so slightly warmer. She did not see it, her eyes to the sky, as Abelas looked down at her. The crazed Dalish who found Elvhen wisdom before she even touched the well. Perhaps Solas had been right, that it was time to pick a new name. And he looked up, and felt the rain wash their sorrows back into the well.


	2. Does it Hide in my Skin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abelas agrees to come with the Inquisitor as she heads back to Skyhold. Set in the time between the end of the first game and before the Trespasser expansion.

Mathelina hadn't truly believed it at first. Abelas had actually agreed to come with her. It had been a side comment as they stood in the cold rainwater of the forgotten well. Her head titled to the sky, their hands both dancing above the water; causing the smallest of ripples like the rain that fell around them. She had whispered it so quietly, not even meaning to say the words aloud. "You should come to Skyhold with us...with me." 

He had not even paused in his response, immediately agreeing. His fingers tightening around hers, cold and trembling as the rain fell. It was such a human thing, the way his fingers trembled from the cold. The longer they stood in the well, connected by their fingers the closer he seemed to her. No longer an ancient elvhen from long ago, his name of sorrow and forgotten tongues. Mathelina's head snapped down to look at him, lips stretching into a wide grin; the tattoos lines shifting over her face with the gesture, distorting. She adjusted her grip, interlacing her hand with his to slowly pull him from the freezing, forgotten pool. "Well, we should be off then. My men are probably wondering where I have wondered off to this time." and she laughed. For the first time, in a long time, she laughed. And the sound echoed through Mythal's forgotten halls. The only sound it would here for quite some time.

The two traversed by foot, and the climb down the cliff side looked daunting. Well, only until Abelas snapped his fingers and suddenly Mathelina felt as light as a feather; gently touching upon the ground. Eyes darting up to meet his as he found the ground as well; continuing upon the path with leisurely steps. A man who had every second under his hand. It was a silent walk, the inquisitor watching the passing golden murals of her pantheon. Andruil's watchful eyes and the caring hand of Ghil'hana. Fingers reaching out to dance over the murals, tracing them only to pause as she reached the statue of Fen'harel. Her feet turning to walk closer, hands dancing over the stone muzzle of the mighty wolf. She couldn't help but stare at the unblinking eyes, one cracked and ruined from Corypheus devastation. "Do you think..." she started before shaking her head. Those hauntingly familiar eyes watching her. She felt Abelas grow close, towering over her to look at the statue. "Yes lethallin?"

"Do you think he was ever lonely? With all the gods and old ones gone...Do you think he ever stopped laughing, and just...felt...alone?" she whispered, and Abelas took her hand off the statue; his other sliding around her waist to walk with her away from the statue. He said nothing for a time, quietly contemplating the idea. As they reached the middle of the temple, tiles under her feet that had once glowed blue with every step, Abelas raised her hand and gently turned her; like a dance. "I think, that the Trickster grew to regret his actions rather quickly. Not only did he lock away the gods, he also lost his connection to the Elvhen...So yes, I think he grew lonely very quickly."

Mathelina regarded Abelas, her eyes narrowing. He was holding onto something, and he wouldn't reveal what. Of course he wouldn't, stubborn elf. Turning round, she quickly stepped back in. "What are you hiding Abelas? What truth is there that you are too wary to speak?" she questioned, raising a dainty brow. Yet before Abelas could answer, the sound of marching feet became evident. Mathelina spun on her heel, pulling an arrow taut before Abelas could blink. The inquisition's colours came into view and she sighed, relaxing the string and giving a wave to the approaching men. Several of them running forward now that they had found the inquisitor.

"Inquistor! We've been looking for you. Commander Cullen has a new report in from Orlais." One yelled, saluting the elf before holding out a scrolled up letter. Mathelina's shoulders dropped, taking the scroll and quickly reading over the neat scrawl of her commander. Troubles with bandits, calming civil war attitude...nothing new, but still needed to be done. "Alright, lets make our way. One of you scout ahead, and let Cullen know we have company." Her eyes darted back up to Abelas with a wry smile, one that ancient elvhen couldn't help but return as the soldiers looked back and forth with confusion. Abelas gestured out with a pale hand, still smiling. "Well Inquistor? Show me the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder, requests are open so feel free to comment and I'll get back to you ASAP


End file.
